


Famous Last Words

by vaderina



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: But the death doesn't stick, Character Death, Eaten by a Dragon, Immortality, M/M, Mentions of Suicide, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2019-03-11 13:06:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13524894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaderina/pseuds/vaderina
Summary: All things considered, Percival should have taken the age old proverb “once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth” to heart more. Newt had quirks that went against all theories of evolution. How the man hadn’t wound up dead with a Darwin Award to his name was beyond Percival. But the man surely wasn't immortal. That wasn't a possibility.





	Famous Last Words

“Don’t.” Percival’s voice held the tired tinge of a begging parent wishing for a bit of peace. Sullenly Newt’s tongue snuck back into his mouth and he stared mournfully at the brightly coloured fruit.

“Why not?” He wasn’t whining like a child. Absolutely not.

“Just don’t lick the unidentified fruit. Please?” Percival asked. The aurors around them hummed in agreement. With a pout Newt pocketed the fruit and they carried on their search of the jungle. Allegedly there was a dark wizard lair somewhere in the area. Not watching his step, Newt tumbled down and felt his ankle give way painfully. It wasn’t an ideal situation and was made even worse when not 100 metres ahead dark wizards started popping up. Percival tried to stay with him, protect him from the worst but the fight was moving away from them and his aurors needed help.

“Go. Help them.” Newt told him firmly and pushed at Percival’s chest.

“You’ll be alone, wounded and vulnerable. I can’t leave you!”

“You can and you will you stubborn oaf. Go help your aurors! I’ll find you or you’ll come back for me when it’s over.”

There was no arguing with Newt and Percival left, hoping those weren’t the last words he’d ever heard Newt utter. He joined the fray of the fighting and lost himself in the back and forth of spells. A glimpse of red hair and blue coat catches his eyes, it moves quietly behind the dark wizards before popping up with a barrage of spells. Thinking they’re surrounded the dark wizards give up pretty quickly after that. When everyone wand was confiscated and secured Newt strolled forward, the fruity Percival had forbidden him from licking was half eaten between his fingers. As Newt approached he took another bite and waved.

“I have so many questions right now.” Percival admitted and looked at Newt. He looked different somehow. Not quite more youthful, but less tired. There was also a copious amount of what looked like blood down the collar of his shirt and spreading down to his chest and trousers.

“Turns out I just twisted my ankle, not broken. See, it’s fine.” Newt lifted his legs and rolled his ankle to show it.

“Yes, well.” Percival’s eyes lingered on the blood and Newt shrugged.

“Not mine. Most of it actually a plant sap I encountered. Don’t try it, it’s bitter.”

“Speaking of tasting things.” Percival grumbled and Newt took another cheerful bite of the fruit, its juice dripped down his hand.

“Want some? It’s sweet but tart.” Newt offered the fruit and Percival backed away.

“Just, don’t eat anything you know nothing about, what would you have done if it were poisonous?” Newt shrugged and meandered away before Percival could scold him some more.

All things considered, Percival should have taken the age old proverb “once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth” to heart more. Newt had quirks that went against all theories of evolution. How the man hadn’t wound up dead with a Darwin Award to his name was beyond Percival. Everything he did seemed to be executed with a callous disregard for his own life and some days Percival wondered just when he’ll have to be carrying a coffin with a heavy heart and tear stained cheeks. He should have known that the answer to that would be a resounding “never”. That’s the only option that remained, it was improbable but the single possibility thus it should have clued him in to being the truth. However, immortality is easy to deny, an impossibility, a curse that few ever dared covet. Percival really should have known better.

“It will be fine.” Newt said, Theseus and Percival behind him as they watched him approach a vine. A vine that had reportedly snared, killed and eaten its victims alive. “She’s probably just feeling a little lonely and unloved, aren’t you darling.”

Theseus rolled his eyes and Percival watched with worry as Newt slid closer to the plant. Lonely plants Merlin’s ass. It was a vicious predator that wasn’t going to not eat Newt because he cooed at it was some precious exotic dahlia. Oh how Percival hated being right. As soon as Newt was close enough the vine snapped out and wrapped around his throat tight. Around the hold the skin started to bubble and Newt choked helpless as he was lifted off the ground. In an attempt to help Percival tried to rush forward but a hand held him back. Next to him Theseus looked unimpressed and had his wand out which was more sensible than rushing in and getting caught himself.

“Avada kedavra.” The green light blinded Percival for a moment and when he looked Newt was limp in the plant’s hold. Disgusted at its prey no longer living the vine released and hissed. Despite himself Percival gaped.

“You- He- Theseus- What? Why?”

“Oh do be quiet.” Theseus drawled and tucked his wand away. “That wasn’t something he was going to survive anyway. Look at how the acid had eaten through his throat.”

True to his words where the vine had been wrapped the skin of Newt’s throat had been eaten away to expose sinew, blood vessels and what little was left of the muscle after the attack.

“You killed your own brother.” Percival’s outrage and grief turned onto Theseus who just shrugged and got a cigarette out of his pocket. “And now you’re going to smoke. You cold hearted killer.”

“Oh do be quiet.” Theseus blew some smoke at Percival. “It’s fine.”

“Fine? FINE? You call this,” he gestured towards Newt’s lifeless body and the plant, “fine? You’re out of your mind Scamander. In fact, you’re under arrest.”

Theseus smirked at him and shrugged.

“I think Newt will have things to say about that.”

“Theseus, Newt is dead. He won’t have anything to say ever again. You killed him. What could he possibly say?”

“That was a terribly rude. Are you ready to try again and a bit more polite this time?” Newt’s voice behind them sounded ever so put out. Slowly Percival turned to watch pale faced as Newt picked himself off the ground and chided the plant. A vine snuck out towards Newt again but just as it went to strike Newt’s arm shot out and grabbed it. “No. That’s impolite.”

A hand pushed Percival down to the floor, helped get his head between his knees and held him through the shaking. It wasn’t possible. Newt coming back to life like that.

“Deep breaths Percival.” Theseus’ voice guided him through his melt down, talked him through slow even breaths.

“You too?” Percival’s voice was thick with confusion.

“Yeah, both of us. But breathe. Then we’ll talk.” Theseus assured him.

“No. You too. As in, you don’t die either?” Percival pressed between gulps for air.

“Yes. But you’re getting hysterical.” Theseus muttered in his ear. “Newt, you broke him.”

“It’s your fault, I was doing just fine!” Newt shot back, attention on feeding the vine strips of meat with soft praise.

“Just as fine as that time in Pompeii?” Theseus shot back and Percival whimpered. Newt just grumbled something and pointed his wand at Percival, the world went blessedly black.

When Percival came round he was on the soft cushions of a sofa, a light blanket draped over him.

“You shouldn’t have told him.” A voice was hissing somewhere behind him.

“And what? Leave you there? I didn’t want to carry on without you around. I thought we agreed.” Another voice argued.

“You’re still not over the incident with the plague are you?” That was definitely Newt.

“Oh will you quit reminding me! That was bad enough.” Theseus spat. Percival groaned and tried to sit up.

“I didn’t dream that all did I?” he asked as he eyed the now seemingly tame plant happily munching on some more meat and canoodling Newt fondly. The brothers both looked at him sheepishly before trying to speak over each other to reassure him and explain away the situation. There was something about an old family curse, their immortality in exchange for their parents’ happiness and wealth. It must have seemed like a good trade off at the time but really, living forever wasn’t all that it was cracked up to be. Percival scoffed out a laugh at that. Talk turned to the brothers forgetting who was older and how they took turns. Theseus on the whole was better at staying alive longer so usually assumed the older brother role. On a few occasions they’d even played father and son. Of course they didn’t always spend time together and they had led independent lives.

“But you’re so different.” Percival mused. He’d have assumed that the brothers would somehow be a little more similar. Two sets of eyes turned to him in sync and Percival revised his opinion sharpish.

“One life time is usually enough with someone.” Theseus replied. “I don’t know how many I’ve had with Newt. But let me tell you, sometimes it’s nice to have a break.”

“Oh. Like that time with Plato!” Newt grinned.

“Oh yeah. How could I forget that?” Theseus’s face softened at the fond memories. “He did love to bang on about Atlantis, remember?”

“Urgh!” Newt scowled. “Don’t remind me. Worst 10 years of my life. And that’s including Pompeii.”

“Wait, what happened?” Percival finally interrupted, utterly lost in the conversation of in-jokes and memories. “Atlantis? Pompeii?” Newt sighed and looked at him.

“Theseus thinks I’m a bit of a walking disaster.”

“Because you are.” His brother kindly interjected and Newt threw a bit of meat at him which he dodged. Percival watched the meat fly through the air and land with a squelch on the wall, leaving an ugly stain as it slid down towards the floor. The plant seemed to track it sorrowfully before prodding Newt for another piece.

“As I was saying, wherever I go things always seem to happen. You know Pompeii and the eruption of Vesuvius? Well, I got into town maybe 2 days before that happened? Then there was the black plague which still wasn’t my fault. I was just there when it started spreading through Europe. And I was there when Atlantis sank.”

“Atlantis is real?” Percival finally sat up and gaped at the brothers.

“Well, it was. Then it sank. And I got stuck under some rubble. Took me 10 long years to wriggle out enough to attract the attention of a giant squid to come and help me.”

“You were underwater for 10 years?!” Percival gasped in horror and watched as Net nonchalantly shrugged it off. The more Percival thought about it the more he realised that Newt wasn’t just underwater for 10 years. He spent 10 years drowning repeatedly while he tried to get out from under the ruins of Atlantis. A shiver of sympathy ran through Percival. Still, it perhaps explained a lot about Newt. Anyone would go mad after 10 years of dying every couple of minutes. How Newt seemed so unaffected by it was beyond him. The man spoke of it with such callous disregard that if Percival had only heard it in passing he might have assumed he was talking about some film plot. Another part of him wondered just how Newt befriended a giant squid deep under water while dying and whether that was where his affinity for animals had come from.

“I still visit Siphon every now and then – he’s become quite the dear in his old age.” Percival just shook his head and let the brothers reminisce about the lives they’d led. There wasn’t really room to butt in for him with any kind of revelation and when he’d had the chance he’d panicked. It didn’t matter, Percival figured if he needed to mention it he could always do it at a later date.

The later date never came however news of Newt’s immortality slowly spread. It started with a small group of aurors who were doing surveillance on a speakeasy. Nobody knew why Newt was there, whether he was doing his own observations or if he genuinely wanted a quiet drink alone in company. Regardless of the matter, things went south pretty fast and the aurors had to step in. Spells went flying everywhere. Patrons cowered, ran for cover and screamed. It was a mess and Newt didn’t have the sense to hide like everyone else, instead he insistently stood on a table to coax a fwooper down from the lighting fixture. It wasn’t anybody’s fault really, the chair sailed through the air in slow motion and everyone watched in horror as it clipped Newt’s face and chin at the worst angle. Newt’s head snapped back to an unnatural angle and he tumbled from the table, limp and lifeless. The fighting was quick to resolve after that, nobody wanted any more deaths and people were ushered out of the speakeasy until it was just a few aurors and Percival left. The aurors had taken their hats off, clutched them to their chest as they stared at Newt on the floor.

“Should we call a Healer?” one of them asked.

“What for? We need a funeral director.” Collins spat bitterly. Percival eyed them and looked down at Newt whose face scrunched up as he came back to life. Nobody seemed to notice. To save face Percival walked up to Newt and nudged him with his foot.

“Rise and shine lazybones.” He said and the aurors gawped at him, thinking his actions to be a disrespectful and ill thought out joke. It was almost funny to watch their horrified expressions as Newt sat up with a mumble of “bugger” as he rubbed the back of his neck.

The incident became a legend in the bullpen. The aurors who were there retold the tale repeatedly to their colleagues who stared at them and Newt in awe. The rumours of Newt’s seeming return from the dead were laughed off by most but a few stalwarts refused to back down.

It was usual for Newt to be late to a meeting. However it wasn’t usual for him to miss it entirely without warning. Despite his reputation for being scatter-brained he was actually quite adept at adhering to schedules and appointments. Once the meeting had concluded Percival excused himself and sought out Newt in his case. It was eerily quiet down there, obviously the creatures had been spooked by something which made Percival frown. He knew Newt had talked about a manticore sighting that he had wanted to investigate but Percival didn’t believe in the rumour much. The newest habitat, no more than a clearing with a temporary lean-to hut for recuperation was easy to find. There was no manticore in sight but the fact Newt lay crumpled on the ground, a few bloody holes in his shirt and a wound still oozing thick, sticky blood under his collarbone told Percival everything he needed to know. Before he entered the clearing he spelled the door to the lean-to shut and locked it firmly. Once that was done he approached Newt on the ground. There wasn’t any sign of him breathing and Percival cast his mind back. Theseus had mentioned that the time to come back to life varied according to death – those due to poisoning or venom tended to take longer than a simple spell. Sinking to the ground Percival gathered Newt against his chest and waited. It probably took about ten minutes before Newt stretched in his arms with a soft yawn.

“This is the most pleasant way to come back to life.” He mumbled with a sleepy smile. If Percival hadn’t known any better he would have guessed Newt was descended from honey badgers, sleeping off the venom of snake bites only to wake and continue as though nothing had happened.

“Don’t get used to it.” He groused and Newt pouted before looking around. He eyed the lean-to suspiciously.

“I guess I could do with a break, Albert is proving more stubborn than expected. Percival decided that for the sake of his own sanity he wasn’t going to question anything Newt said.

Rumours of Newt’s death not sticking got worse after the dragon incident. Reports of a dragon loose in Central Park caused panic in MACUSA as everyone scrambled to contain the threat to their secret existence. Of course Newt tagged along and was at the forefront of the group to approach the dragon. The only problem was that it wasn’t a simple dragon. Some idiot had decided to try and continue the works of the disbanded dragon experimentation from the Great War and imbued the dragon with the skills of a demiguise. Occasionally they’d catch a glimpse of the dragon before it turned invisible again in the threat of being approached. In his desperation Newt turned to the aurors and begged them to lower their wands, maybe even try to relax a little. It didn’t seem to work though. Even as the aurors lowered their wands their eyes went wide and looked above Newt.

“She’s behind me, isn’t she?” Newt asked, resigned to his fate. The next moment powerful dragon jaws closed around him and the aurors winced collectively at the crunching. While the dragon was distracted with its meal they fanned out to surround it. Percival was off to the side, close enough to marvel at the way the sunlight reflected off the scales under the huge wings. Idly he wondered how Newt was going to explain this incident.

Meal finished, the dragon eyed them suspiciously but didn’t make a move. After a tense minute long standoff her throat bulged. The aurors watched in revolted fascination as her throat was pushed out again and again until the poor dragon began to retch. With a wet belch she regurgitated a sodden lump that stood up.

“That was terribly rude.” Newt grumbled as he scratched at her snout. “If you were hungry you should have just said. I have a case where I could have a veritable feast ready for you in minutes. Don’t you know woollen coats are bad for your digestion?”

Dripping dragon saliva and who knows what else, Newt wetly squelched to get his case and opened it in front of the dragon.

“In you pop.” Percival wondered who was more stunned the aurors or the dragon.

The rumours were impossible to quash after Newt’s return trip to a dragon’s stomach. He quietly explained the situation to the aurors and asked them not to tell anyone lest Theseus found out. His brother was bound to kill him, repeatedly, if he realised Newt’s poorly kept secret was out. There were questions about Newt’s circumstances. Clarity sought over the times he’d died in the field and how. Percival shuddered at the mention of the knife that Newt kept permanently in his boot and another in his coat pocket for dire situations.

“That time in the jungle?” he asked when all the aurors had returned to their desks after their lunch. “All that red on your shirt wasn’t plant sap, was it?”

Newt shook his head with a small smile.

“It’s wonderful what people are willing to believe when they desperately don’t want to accept the truth that’s in front of them.”

“How many other times Newt?”

“I try to keep it to a minimum. With magizoology though it’s probably once a month. When I have a new creature I do try to limit it to once a day though. But with creatures like the nundu I’m afraid it was rather a lot more than that until she learnt to trust me.”

“I thought her breath wasn’t dangerous.”

“Ah,” Newt had the grace to look a little abashed, “it’s not dangerous to me? I’ve built up quite the resistance to her pestilence.”

Percival shook his head in disappointment but he’d long since given up trying to reprimand Newt. Plus, his unusual habit of not dying had come in useful once or twice. It turned out that Newt was quite a good negotiator, talking his way into hostage situations and exchanges willingly. Most of the time it worked out fine. In situations where the criminals weren’t quite as kind to their hostages it was painful to see Newt being killed in a variety of ways. However each time he rose behind his murderers, annoyed and occasionally berating them for not taking care of his clothes it was almost hilarious. Newt became the bogeyman of the underworld. The one who rose again and again only to scold them like the disappointed mother with her unruly children. Not much different to how he was with his creatures really, Percival mused.

Of course things didn’t run smoothly. Percival cursed his bad luck when Grindelwald stormed MACUSA. He and Newt were on either side of Grindelwald, Newt in the throng of aurors restrained while Percival was centre stage and ready to be made an example of. Seraphina was ushered none too kindly into the room so she too could watch his grand execution. It was embarrassing, the monologue, the posturing all leading up to what was ultimately a simple killing curse. The world flashed green, Percival heard Newt’s scream for him and everything went black.

The aurors and Newt were in uproar as Percival’s body hit the ground. Grindelwald laughed and turned to them, wand pointing threateningly at the group. He thought their pale faces blanched more and eyes went round at his intimidation and threats. At no point did he expect someone to tap him on the shoulder. He turned, surprised at being interrupted.

“Surprise.” Percival growled and socked him in the jaw. Grindelwald stumbled and was immediately set upon by the whole department. Newt ran to Percival and clutched at him in disbelief.

“You too? Since when?”

“I tried to tell you at the start. But then you knocked me out. And the opportunity just never arose. It’s a Graves thing.”

“Were you ever going to tell me?” Newt held him at an arm’s length with hopeful wonder.

“Eventually.” Percival nodded. “It was going to come out one way or another. Though I like to think I’m a bit better than both you and Theseus at living a single long life.”

Newt laughed with teary eyes, slowly drifting closer to Percival who cradled his cheek in a warm palm.

“Somehow I don’t think one lifetime would ever be enough with you.” Percival said and pulled Newt close.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on tumblr - @ladyoftheshrimp


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